Through the Glass
by Arsenic Kisses
Summary: Christine would do anything for her Angel of Music. Will this Angel break the spell to satisfy his need by sliding the mirror back?


I haven'y written any Phantom in awhile, so I decided to take Erik's frustrations and put them in a one-shot. It turned out better than I had hoped, which is good :) I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, though god knows life would be SA-WEET if I did!

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" Don't deny me now!" pleaded the voice, it's reverberations humming with the desperate pangs of an aching desire. The girl sat upon her dressing room stool, hands twisting a handkerchief into ruin. The room was tense, as if the thoughts of life and death were left to devour each other there. And it was such a pretty room, too.

" I don't understand, Angel...What am I denying you?" she was still in a tutu, the color a light peach. Ribbons and frills seemed like unnecessary flourishes on a wedding cake, piled and puffed about her slight frame. He drank them in, her features, like fragrant dregs of wine. She was looking about, almost tearful with confusion. Erik took a moment to gather his phantom thoughts of lust into a little, compressed cluster before suppressing them. Pushing them under the surface of his sanity.

" I beg your pardon, my pet." he intoned with a commanding sensuality, " I was merely expressing the passionate anger I would feel if you refused the world your talent."

Christine still didn't feel quite right. The Angel of Music was acting very strange lately. A week ago, she noticed that whenever she sang, she heard the faintest of moans, or perhaps it was whimpering? Now, after her lesson today, it had happened again. She was so frightened, and stopped so abruptly, he had screamed at her.

"Angel, I sometimes wonder if you..."

" What, my child?" Christine took her time, which drove the man on the other side of the mirror mad. His desperation pressed him against the mirror, body physically shivering for control over itself.

" I wonder if you're in pain...being an angel. Does it hurt?" Erik wanted to weep at her innocent, near pitiable naiveté.

" More than you know...." he murmured. Christine stood then, and cautiously tip-toed to the mirror. Silently, she pressed her hands to his, unaware that she was doing this at all. But, she felt the heat from him palms and shuddered.

_He was there, her Angel.  
_

She pressed her body full to the mirror and tried to peer through it, sure that somewhere beyond this mirror was his world of music. Where melodies formed pillows of silk to rest upon. Where the treble and bass clef controlled the weather. Where a beat was a beat a rest was a rest, and no one could change the arrangements unless they asked _her_ Angel first.

Erik could see the dreams in her eyes, almost as if they passed before her irises like an grandiose production. He pulled off his mask and wig, and continued to keep himself up against the mirror. His hands moved down her curves, unafraid of the consequences. There were none really, just his own guilt of being so secretly shameless. A sinful wretch, a liar and lout. A devil. An angel of the worst sort.

" Angel..." She breathed, her breath igneous through the glass.

" Yes, my muse?" he answered, voice melodically pained. Christine nearly cried with joy at how close he was. And yet it was bittersweet. She still could not touch him, see his angelic face. Why was this world so cruel?

" Is there any way I can ease your suffering?" Erik almost screamed. He wanted to tear his hair out and roar like the beast he was at her quivering request. Her breasts, lightly undulating with each beat of her nightingale's heart making it harder and harder to control the animalistic urges he had learned to loathe. His pressed his hands to hers once again and pushed against the glass. The time was now, he would show her his true form. But as the mirror shuddered on it sliding tracks, Erik stopped.

_This is not right,_ he thought with clarity,_ If I let her see, her dreams will be shattered....I-I can't do it, I just __**can't **__do it!!_

Erik focused on her quivering lips.

" Press your lips against the mirror, Christine." He commanded gently. She willing obliged, her eyes closing in the ecstacy of pleasing her beloved teacher. Erik watched her lips gently flatten against the glass. First, he traced them with his finger, imagining their supple softness. Their fullness, warm against his thin, devastated lips. Then, he pressed his lips against hers, tears of frustration, pain and love racing down his sickly, sallow cheeks. He lingered there, wanting this to be real. _God, _he begged, _make this real_.

He backed up, breaking the spell he had cast over himself. He replaced the mask and wig with his back turned.

" Thank you, _my_ Christine." he whispered, lip trembling in the muggy darkness. She backed up slowly, knowing that her Angel had given her his divine kiss. Something she would _not_ take for granted.

" We will meet again tomorrow, my child. Your lessons will continue as planned." Erik began to go, but was stilled by her pure, crystalline voice.

" I love you, Angel..." She offered with the deepest affections. He looked over his shoulder, seeing her sweet presence still pressed to the mirror, asking in silence for his companionship and warmth.

" I love you, Christine..." Erik hummed softly, walking into the darkness, " I will always love you."

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Finis! I hope you liked it. If so, please let me know :)

3

DeMuerte


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